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Apocalypse: the rise of zombie

rii013
The world Jenna once knew was gone, replaced by a chaotic landscape where the undead ruled. Cities, once bustling with traffic and the constant hum of office life, now stood eerily quiet, littered with abandoned cars and half-eaten remains. Skyscrapers loomed over crumbling streets, their windows shattered like jagged teeth in the skyline. Before the apocalypse, Jenna was just another cog in the corporate machine—26 years old, an office worker who blended into the beige walls of her cubicle. She was sharp-witted, sarcastic, and always found a way to inject humour into the soul-crushing monotony of her daily grind. Her dark brown hair was constantly tied in a lazy bun, and her wardrobe consisted of the same three cardigans rotated in and out of existence. She had dreams, sure, but none of them involved surviving a zombie apocalypse, let alone doing it with newly discovered spatial powers. Now, as a newly minted zombie with a strange ability to store objects in a personal pocket dimension, Jenna found herself navigating a ruined world with the same dry humour that once got her through endless office meetings. Only now, she was hoarding supplies instead of spreadsheets—and doing it in style. --- A/N The MC is dumb as f*ck so, if your looking for smart and strong MC. This story is not for you.
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Umbra Chronicle

I placed myself into my own novel, and now the world I once wrote is trying to erase me. I walk through the Human Realm as Kaeru, crossing roads I designed, entering kingdoms I once imagined, and standing before ruins, towers, and people that were never supposed to feel this real. What should have been a story has become lived reality, and every step I take drags me deeper into a world that no longer obeys me simply because I created it. Because creation was never the same as belonging. The Human Realm stretches before me as both invitation and warning. My journey through it is filled with things I cannot yet explain without saying too much—meetings that will matter later, places that should have been ordinary but are not, and scattered pieces I keep gathering for a future even I know will demand them. None of it is random. None of it is meaningless. Somewhere down the line, every fragment will become necessary. And yet, the more I move forward, the more the world itself begins to turn. The Law of Aion is not a rule, nor some distant force of morality or justice. It is the weight of continuity. The pressure of meaning. The truth that existence, no matter how much it changes, must still be able to trace itself. And around me, that truth is shifting. Quietly. Relentlessly. Reality bends in small ways first—through timing, through people, through events that feel almost right until I notice the shape of what is being altered. It is trying to make sense of me by leaving less room for me to exist. Something in this world knows that I do not align with the path that led everything here. My presence strains against the shape of what should be. So the Law moves—not to destroy me outright, but to rearrange the story around me until I can no longer remain inside it as I am. But I keep moving. I keep gathering what I need. I keep walking toward answers I may not want. And behind all of it, beyond every silence and every shift in the world, there is Kaediel. Close enough to haunt my thoughts. Distant enough to remain unclear. Whether he is another self, a witness, or something far beyond either, his presence lingers like a shadow cast by a truth I have not yet reached. This world remembers its own meaning. And if I cannot prove mine before the story closes around me, then one day the path that created everything will continue on— as if I was never part of it at all.
Kaediel · 16.6k Views